In Her Eyes

by Sarah Alderson

  ‘Oh yes,’ says Nate, forcing a smile while walking over to shake Sam’s outstretched hand. ‘I remember now. How are you doing?’

  ‘Great,’ beams Sam. ‘I’m doing great. This is my daughter Abby,’ she says, showing Abby off like a pedigree dog at a show. ‘She’s friends with June. That’s why we’re here. We thought we’d visit and see how she’s doing.’

  I feel Nate’s gaze land on me but I ignore it. ‘I’m here to interview the nurse who was on duty last night,’ Nate says by way of explanation, then he tips his hat, nods at Sam and takes his leave.

  ‘Bye!’ Sam shouts after him.

  I glance at the sign to the restrooms, visible over Samantha’s shoulder, and wonder if I can make a break for it while she’s distracted, but I’m not fast enough and Samantha turns her attention back to me before I can get away.

  ‘Isn’t that weird? Him being the Sheriff and all?’ she asks.

  I cock my head at her, not understanding.

  ‘Well, you two used to date, didn’t you?’

  I nod, wondering how on earth she remembers that.

  ‘Mom.’ Abby tugs on her mother’s arm, though Sam ignores her. Abby’s wearing a pained expression and I wonder if her mother dragged her here against her will, and then I remember the argument she had with June the night it all happened. If they hadn’t argued, then June would have stayed the night at their house. She wouldn’t have been home and we wouldn’t be standing here now. The realization makes me want to scream.

  But then Sam says something that catches my attention. I turn to her. ‘What?’

  ‘You didn’t know?’ she asks, her blue-planet eyes growing round.

  I shake my head.

  ‘The whole time you were dating, Nate was seeing Margot Williams, remember her? That girl from Texas. Her brother Calvin was on the football team with Nate. She was a cheerleader.’ She lowers her voice. ‘Rumor has it he was also sleeping with her mother!’ She takes in my stunned expression. ‘Oh lord, forgive me, I mean, that was just a rumor about the mom. I doubt it’s true. I’m not gossiping. I thought you knew. Everyone knew.’ She gives an apologetic, squirmy smile and once again I want to punch her in the face.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ I say.

  ‘He was always such a player,’ she replies with a shrug, as though I’m an idiot for not realizing it. ‘He slept with the entire cheerleading team. Apart from me, of course,’ she hastily adds, brushing a strand of hair behind one ear, her face flushing with the lie. ‘I thought that’s why you broke up.’

  I blink at her. Nate was having an affair when we were together? I don’t know why it never occurred to me before now. Perhaps because he acted so broken up when I dumped him. But now I see it was just wounded pride on his part, that I left him and not the other way around. My God, I was such an idiot. I’ve been so blind. I think of how I let him fool me into cheating on my husband, and feel physically ill, like I need to throw up and then rip my skin off my body with my fingernails, scrub myself with bleach.

  ‘Anyway,’ says Sam, interrupting my thoughts. ‘I guess we should go. Abby has gymnastics to get to.’ She puts her arm around Abby’s shoulders and the casualness of the gesture threatens to unlock the storm of grief that is raging inside my chest.

  ‘We’ll keep praying for June,’ Sam says as they head towards the elevators.

  I spin away from them, feeling discombobulated and like I might scream or throw up or both, but then something makes me stop and turn around. June had a fight with Abby on the night of the break-in. That’s the only reason she came home.

  ‘Abby!’ I shout.

  She turns, her eyes wide and questioning.

  I walk over to her. ‘You and June had a falling out, didn’t you? On the night it happened?’

  Abby swallows hard and nods, her eyes filling with tears.

  I soften my voice. ‘It’s OK,’ I reassure her. ‘I just wanted to ask what it was about.’

  She frowns a little at that and glances, worriedly, at her mother. ‘It was silly.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘It was about stealing.’

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘She said the Bible was wrong, that sometimes things weren’t a sin, and I said she was wrong . . .’ She glances at her mother. ‘Because stealing is a sin.’

  Samantha smiles smugly at her daughter and squeezes her shoulders before pulling her away towards the elevator. I stare after them, confused, trying to figure out what June could have been talking about.

  ‘Mom? Where have you been?’

  I turn around, dazed. It’s Hannah. I’m about to shout at her for leaving June’s side but before I can, she thrusts her phone in my face. ‘Look!’ she says. ‘Someone just texted me this.’

  I take the phone and study the website she has open. It’s a gossip site – one of the big ones – and on the front page are several photographs of someone lying in a hospital bed. It takes a few seconds before I realize they’re photographs of June, including several close-ups on her face.

  The headline shouts: EXCLUSIVE DEATHBED PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE VALLEY INTRUDER’S VICTIM.

  ‘How did they get these?’ I say. Dots dance in front of me, blurring my sight. Was it the man in the scrubs who took them or the person who tried to kill her?

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hannah sobs.

  Chapter 36

  Laurie drops me home and tells me she’ll be back in an hour to return me to the hospital. I trudge to the front door, feeling numb and exhausted. In the back of my mind is the knowledge that I need to pack up the house and find somewhere to live, but it’s so far down the list of things to do it barely registers.

  After Laurie drives off I march towards Gene’s garage apartment. The blinds are drawn and the lights are off. I know he’s not there but perhaps there will be a clue, something that might help me find the money or figure out who stole it.

  I’ve fixated on that and it’s probably because it’s impossible to fix anything else. I can’t do anything about June, I can’t find Gene, I can’t get Robert out of jail, but perhaps, just perhaps, I can get these people off our backs and prevent them from hurting anyone else.

  At the front door to the apartment I search through my bag for my key, but when I fit it in the lock I realize the door is already open. I walk into the kitchen, closing the door behind me and then locking it because I’m terrified of being taken by surprise again.

  Dirty clothes, ashtrays and old pizza boxes lie strewn around on the floor, the stale pizza inside growing furry green toppings, and there are piles of dirty laundry that look as if they’re about to walk out the door. The closet is ajar and junk cascades out of it: baseball bats, tennis rackets, a snowboard and a few other things we didn’t have room for in the garage, including a crossbow I remember Robert buying for Gene at least a decade ago. It looks like he either ransacked the place himself or someone has been here and done it for him. Or was it the men who broke in? Hannah did say they searched here too. They were looking for that money. Or perhaps for drugs.

  Was it the men higher up the totem pole? I should make a list of all the people who knew Gene was dealing and had the money. I guess all the people he was selling drugs to – and God knows how many people that was. Hundreds perhaps. That doesn’t help narrow it down.

  The bedroom door flies open and a man in a black sweater and jeans barrels past me, heading for the door. A split second is all I need to recognize him. It’s the man who claimed to be a journalist, the same man who Nate threatened, who gave his name as Euan Shriver. He leaps over the coffee table and dashes into the kitchen.

  I follow him, stopping briefly to pick up something I saw in the closet. I find Euan frantically trying the door, pumping the handle up and down, confused as to why it won’t open.

  I hold up the door keys and see the fear flash in his eyes as he spies the crossbow I’m holding in my other hand. Now I raise it to shoulder height.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing in my house?’ I hiss.

  The man ho
lds up both hands, palms out. He cowers back against the door and I think to myself once more: Is this him? Is this the man who robbed us? Is this one of the men in the masks?

  ‘I was looking for Gene,’ he says, eyeing the crossbow with a terror that makes me feel alive.

  ‘Why? What do you want with Gene?’

  ‘Just business,’ he says.

  Business? Is he one of his clients? Is he a meth addict? Was he here looking for Gene or for drugs, or even for money? ‘Who are you?’ I demand. ‘You’re not a journalist. No one’s heard of you. You don’t work for the Herald. What were you doing at the hospital before?’ I press, leveling the crossbow at him.

  ‘I’m a stringer,’ he finally grunts.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘I was trying to get an exclusive. Pictures.’

  I shake my head at him, confused.

  ‘I sell them to the highest bidder,’ he explains. ‘Normally the National Enquirer. A few others.’

  ‘That was you?’ I shout, stepping towards him so the bolt is aligned with his chest. ‘You took those photos of June.’

  He shakes his head vehemently. ‘No, no! It wasn’t me. I swear.’

  I step backwards. I’ve left my bag on the table and my phone is in it. Without taking my eyes off the man, I drag the bag closer and reach inside to pull it out.

  ‘I sold them though, yes,’ he says. ‘What are you doing?’ he asks as I pull out my phone.

  ‘Calling the police. You’re trespassing.’

  ‘I’m not trespassing. Gene told me to meet him here.’

  ‘Why? When?’ I say. ‘You’ve seen him?’

  His face bleaches. I inch forwards so the bolt is pressing over his heart.

  ‘I was meeting him here to buy more photographs,’ he says.

  My mouth falls open. ‘That was Gene? Those photos of June in the hospital? Gene took them?’

  He nods at me.

  ‘So that wasn’t you – in the hospital gown? In June’s room?’

  ‘What?’ his face furrows. ‘What are you talking about?’

  I drop the crossbow to my side.

  ‘You fucking crazy woman,’ the man yells. ‘You can’t point that thing at me. I’m just doing my job.’

  ‘Your job? What’s your name? Your real name?’

  ‘It is Euan, Euan Breslow. Look, in my game, we don’t like people knowing who we are. People don’t tend to like us much.’

  ‘You don’t say!’ I yell. ‘Get out of my house!’ My head spins. The room spins.

  He starts trying the door handle again. ‘I can’t,’ he tells me. ‘It’s locked.’

  I scramble to find the keys, dragging them out of my pocket. I unlock the door, but before I let him pass I turn back to him. ‘How much – how much did you pay him for the photos?’

  ‘Fifteen thousand,’ he says, pushing past me and flying through the door and down the steps.

  ‘If I ever see you again,’ I shout after him, ‘I’ll kill you.’

  I fall back against the door, sobbing and panting, struggling to breathe and take it in.

  Together with the money from selling his car that makes around thirty thousand dollars. He hasn’t run away. He’s trying to get the money together to pay off Raul and James . . . but at the expense of his sister.

  How could he?

  Chapter 37

  I hurry out of the apartment and into the house, my senses prickling like I’ve stepped inside a mausoleum, with ghosts gathered around me. The first thing I notice is that the paintings on the wall over the mantelpiece, and the one in the hallway by the stairs, are missing. Gene must have sold them.

  I feel relieved. He’s at least doing something to fix things, not leaving it all to me. Unless of course he’s raising the money in order to run off somewhere and start a new life. My mind won’t stop conjuring up what-ifs and maybes. Perhaps it’s the leaden exhaustion or the paranoia or the drugs I’m taking but my imagination feels amplified, every few seconds conjuring a new theory or suspect.

  I head upstairs, deliberately avoiding looking in June’s room, and toss everything I’m wearing into the laundry bin, before showering in record time and changing into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. The jeans fall off my hips and a quick glance in the mirror shows me that I’ve lost weight – a lot of weight. My face looks gaunt, my eyes dark-circled. I hardly recognize myself and I turn abruptly away.

  I let out a scream. Gene is standing in the doorway.

  He jumps back in fright. I lunge at him, slapping and clawing at his face, the rage pouring out of me. He staggers away from the onslaught, holding my wrists, but still I come at him. The backs of his legs hit the bed and he tumbles down, holding up his arms to cover his face.

  I kick his leg and stumble away from him, forcing myself to rein in the fury. ‘You bastard,’ I say to him. ‘You absolute bastard.’

  He peeks out at me from behind the barrier of his arms.

  ‘I met Raul and James. I know everything. I know you’ve been dealing meth and that some money was stolen – money that you now owe. I know your father was trying to help you and now he’s in prison and he won’t say anything because he’s trying to protect us all. I know that it was you who took the photo of June and sold it to that man, that journalist. I know everything, Gene.’

  His face turns ashen.

  ‘Did you think you could keep it all a secret?’

  His face crumples. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No!’ I shout. ‘You don’t get to say sorry. The doctors want to switch off June’s life support.’

  His head flies up. ‘What?’

  ‘Someone got into the hospital this morning and turned off her ventilator. If you’d been around you’d know this. The police think it was the same person who broke into the house. The same person who shot your sister.’

  Gene stares at me. I see the shock waves pummeling him and I relish it. I want to pound him so hard with the truth of what he’s done that he collapses beneath the weight of it.

  ‘She went into cardiac arrest,’ I tell him. ‘They say even if she wakes up she’ll be brain damaged.’

  Gene takes that in then shakes his head angrily. ‘Don’t let them. How do you know they’re right?’

  ‘Because they’re doctors.’

  ‘So? That doesn’t mean they can’t make mistakes. People make mistakes all the time.’

  ‘This wasn’t a mistake, Gene,’ I say. ‘You knew what you were doing.’

  He drops his head and then his body starts to convulse. He curls into a ball on the bed and I realize he’s crying, sobbing like a child. I feel nothing except contempt.

  ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’ I say. ‘Do you?! This is all your fault. I went to see them – your friends – your drug dealer friends. They threatened me, did you know that? And your father. And your sisters.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Gene says in a whisper. ‘I’m getting the money together.’

  ‘How? Are you going to sell more photos?’

  ‘No,’ he mumbles through his tears. ‘I’ve pooled all my savings, sold my car and a few things.’

  ‘My paintings.’

  ‘I’ve got thirty-two thousand,’ he mumbles, not looking me in the face.

  ‘How are you going to get the rest?’ I ask, doing the mental calculation. He still needs to find close to fifty thousand more dollars.

  He sits up. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a plan.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I snort. ‘I can just imagine what kind of plan you have.’

  He hangs his head in shame.

  ‘The people who stole the money, Gene – do you know who they were? If you have any idea you need to tell me right now, you should have already told the police.’

  He shakes his head, looks up at me. ‘You think I wouldn’t have told someone if I had any idea who it was?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, shrugging. ‘Would you have? My guess is not, because that means you’d be arrested too and God forbid you ever pay for your
screw-ups or that your father or the world ever treats you like a goddamn adult.’

  He laughs, a bitter snort. ‘You think I care if I’m arrested? You think I’m doing this to save my own skin?’ He stands up and paces away from me. Next thing I know, he’s whirling back around to face me, fury radiating off him. ‘You don’t think I wish it was me lying in that hospital bed? You don’t think I would trade places with June in a second? I’ve been trying to fix this! I was the one that wanted to go to the police and tell them, but Dad told me not to.’ His voice breaks. ‘We didn’t plan for any of this to happen.’ He looks quickly away, wipes the back of his arm across his mouth as if trying to cancel out what he just said.

  ‘What did you just say? We?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He turns his back to me.

  ‘Gene, what do you mean “we”?’

  He doesn’t respond. I study the back of his head, trying to bat away the impulse I have to throw myself on him and start hitting him. Eventually he grunts something.

  ‘Sorry?’ I say, unsure I’ve heard him correctly.

  He turns to me. ‘Dave. Dave and me. We were in business together.’

  For a few seconds my brain tries to twist itself around these new facts. ‘Business?’ I ask.

  He nods, eyes sliding to the floor. ‘I needed some cash up front. He put some money down about six months ago to get me started. It was just a quick buck for him, you know, a good return.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘a great return.’

  Gene flinches as if I’ve lunged at him again.

  ‘And then he left you to swing when the money disappeared?’ I ask.

  He looks up now, startled. ‘No. He’s been trying to help me fix it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He’s given me what he had and he’s trying to refinance his house.’

  Shit. Does Laurie know about this? She’ll kill him if she finds out. Should I tell her?

  ‘Look,’ Gene says to me, ‘Dave was just a silent partner. He gave me a little seed money, that’s all. He wasn’t involved at all in anything else. He said he really needed the cash. I think he asked Dad for a loan and Dad said no.’